


the foreign nature of human contact

by seraf



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dissociation, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Manhandling, Post-Game(s), Touch-Starved, Virtual Reality, somewhere between the two honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 10:23:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20307928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraf/pseuds/seraf
Summary: kiyo isn't listening.not to him, not to their "classmates", not to team danganronpa. whatever goes said to him, he just lets pass him by with glassy eyes and a thousand-yard stare.kaito is trying, he really is.





	the foreign nature of human contact

** _ [manhandling writing prompts](https://mandowo.tumblr.com/post/187091614563/manhandling-symbol-starters) _ **

♭ - grip my muse’s jaw to make them look yours in the eye

it’s _frustrating, _talking to kiyo. mostly, because it feels about as productive as talking to a wall might be. but at least, if you were talking to a wall, there was no expectation for the wall to respond, and a perfectly good reason as to why it wasn’t. kaito is making an effort with _all _of his “classmates”, and that includes kiyo. 

but it doesn’t seem as though kiyo cares either way. 

kaito’s attempts to start conversation, miu’s crude comments about what he probably got up to in his room, kokichi’s verbal or physical prodding, shuichi’s hesitant attempts to bring up some of the things kiyo had spoken about back when they spent time together, tenko’s outright anger, kirumi’s polite and even questions, even himiko’s attempt on his life - he undergoes it all with blank, glassy eyes, unfocused and unshifting from some unseen horizon. 

kiyo’s hair barely dips past his chin, now, a greasy, choppy mess that curtains his face most of the time. kaito doesn’t know the story behind it, but it definitely _looks _like either kiyo cut it himself or one of the rest of them did it as some malformed revenge. 

kiyo wasn’t saying. 

but kaito said _all _of his classmates, and that meant all of them. even kokichi, even kiyo. even if they were bad people, that didn’t mean what team danganronpa had did to them wasn’t so, so much worse. 

they’re sitting in the lounge room after a halfhearted round of art therapy. kiyo’s paper is blank, kaito feeling kind of stupid with the cartoon rocketship he drew still sitting in front of him. but fuck it, at least he’s _trying. _he can’t draw for shit, but he was gonna make the effort in the therapy courses they had. 

sometimes he wondered if kiyo was still _present, _there. 

but he had moments of clarity, sometimes outright refusing to eat or participate, sometimes getting up and leaving the room if he felt unwelcome. he was there, he was just . . . catatonic. kaito has no fucking idea on where to start, trying to break the ice there. 

‘ not feeling very creative today? ‘ he asks, and kiyo just blinks, unseeingly, at him. 

he tries every day this week, multiple times. at breakfast, after their viewing sessions of the game to catch up on what they missed after they had died in-game, before sleep, after art or music or group therapy. nothing. every question he has goes unanswered. 

it’s frustrating. 

they’re sitting next to each other in the lounge again in the “free time” before lights-out, kiyo’s hands twitching in his lap. kaito has tried four times now to start a conversation or even just ask him a question in passing, and something snaps, bright and impatient, in him. ‘ look, kiyo - ‘ he says, and grabs kiyo’s chin, tilts his head up and turns it to face him, so even if kiyo’s eyes are unfocused, he can’t _avoid _him anymore. ‘ shit, man, just fucking _say _something. _anything. _you wouldn’t shut the fuck up then, why can’t you say a g-ddamn thing anymore? ‘ 

the reaction he gets isn’t anything he could have expected. 

kiyo still doesn’t say anything, eyes only half-present as they dart over kaito’s face. and his eyes spill over, suddenly and without warning, noiseless but for the hitching of kiyo’s breath in his chest it seems he’s fighting to subdue. kaito immediately lets go of his chin, a little shocked. ‘ shit, kiyo, i’m sorry, i - ‘ 

kiyo’s head drops against his chest, shoulders curling in on himself. if anything, he looks . . . worse, now kaito released him. it doesn’t make sense. kiyo usually doesn’t. 

but he has a sudden hunch. 

swallowing down the bitter voice inside of him that asks when the last time anything good came out of following his gut feelings, he rests a hand on kiyo’s shoulder, clasping it there, firm and steady and grounding. he can feel the tears shaking kiyo’s body, can feel his reedy breaths - and he can feel kiyo’s weight slowly crumple against his hand, leaning hard into the touch. 

even violent touch, even jerking him around by the face, was some human contact, kaito realized. he wonders if this is the only time other than team danganronpa putting in and removing his iv that kiyo has gotten in awhile. 

he doesn’t understand kiyo, and he can’t really say he likes him, either. ( right? )

but he lets him cry, smoothing his hand over the plane between kiyo’s prominent shoulderbones. 

**Author's Note:**

> smt pretty damn short but im just trying to get writing again ;;


End file.
